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Sense is the maker of darkness making the light her opposite

Badged in a lodged ferment the acre of loneliness an accepted medication

Sins and crime sorts of layering against a beach of refusal

Calling all innocence in a curve of doctrinal confusion

Mud twists in the garage of an undoing fencing impossibility to whore regret

Wide or narrow straits in us- strangers in the fest of miles

The aggregate lies in the animal

A washing in a blister of island diamonds

And some seekers are as quiet as hybrid clear

An appropriate response lays the architect

Supposing there are no leaks

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